Monday, January 31, 2011

Snippets of nighttime conversation

Had the child informed me that she was only going to sleep soundly until about 3:30am, I might have tried harder to overcome my insomnia prior to that time, but alas, my first clue was when she heard me sneaking back from the kitchen (I had just clandestinely eaten a cookie) and called to me with a smile, "Come here to me, Momma Fox!" and then instructed me to call her "my Baby Fox."

I assumed since she appeared to immediately be sleeping again that she was really just talking in the midst of a dream, as she often does, but I was wrong. She was actually gearing up for NIGHT OF NEEDINESS 2011!!! (Please use a monster truck announcer voice as you read that.)

It began small with comments like, "I really don't feel very well. Could you get me a tissue and do nose spray? That always helps my nose to work." At that stage, I felt very motherly and didn't mind continuing to be awake to take care of her, especially when she told me "You're the bestest for when I need something, and you're the bestest momma I've ever known and the only one I have." Even when she blundered into a statement that sounded like she thought Daddy was really more compassionate, she recovered well with a diplomatic answer to soothe my ego while still praising my choice in husbands.

I was feeling pretty good about my maternal instincts, but as the night wore on, my exhaustion started to take over. I propped her up on pillows to help with drainage, handed her her own tissue to wipe her own nose, and told her that we both needed rest. She would stay quiet briefly, but the moment I drifted off to sleep, she would comment again on the unpleasantness of illness, and I would once again be wide awake. This did not promote motherly affection.

Finally, she fell into a restful sleep again, and so did I, for a few hours. Unfortunately, a few hours has never been enough for me to function in a rational and considerate manner, so when she awoke and started describing her symptoms again, I was less than attentive.

Ambriel: My tummy hurts like it did yesterday, and my sneezes make the snot explode out of me, and      my coughing is the worstest: it makes everything hurt.

Me: Hmmm, mmmm.

Ambriel: Momma?

Me: Hmmm?

Ambriel: Don't you want to help me?!

Me: (hesitation) Yeeees.

Ambriel: No you don't! And I know why: 'cause the sneezes and coughs don't want you to. They want me to stay sick FOREVER. Is that what you want?!

Me: (hesitation) Noooo.

Ambriel: I'm a little too tired to get a yogurt. Could you get me one?

Me: (dozing off)

Ambriel: MOMMA! Don't you love me anymore?

Me: (hesitation followed by guilt and an attempt to muster the strength to stand and walk.)

So I got up and got her a yogurt. Then I put her in the bathtub, because she believes warm water can cure any ill, which is how I snuck away to tell you all about my night :)

She's calling, though.

Ambriel: Momma, I don't want to be a prune-y raisin!

1 comment: